Red Tulips
by somethingsdont
Summary: EC. The aftermath of an innocent recreation. Post episode for 6.14, “You May Now Kill the Bride”.


It wasn't enough anymore, seeing her around every day, having her close enough to smell – vanilla but not vanilla, fruit but not any he could name. Insanity could be an ambiguous word, coated in something resembling good judgment when it was anything but that. It was where Eric Delko found himself: exhibiting what seemed to follow the rules of the game, but knowing _somewhere_ that they weren't his rules to follow. Weren't hers, either, though she followed them to a T.

They'd acted out scenes before, more times than he could count, more moments than he knew how to cherish when she stepped out of her own skin and crawled into someone else's for the sake of science. Still as beautiful, but less guarded somehow, willing to play the part of someone she'd never found the courage to be. He knew she feared next to nothing, but he also knew, in rare moments of weakness, what little she did fear threatened to eat her alive.

Every time he thought he'd seen her at her most gorgeous, she'd been able to prove him wrong, provide him with another glimpse of what could be. Sightless men could see she was stunning, but he knew and understood her better than anyone, and that was what made her breathtaking in his eyes.

And when she had picked up the veil and had placed it upon her head – science, he reminded himself, purely science – the band resting flawlessly against the crown of her head, she'd smiled coyly at him, almost as if suddenly aware of what she was doing, where, when, and with whom. His heart had caught in his throat, palpated rapidly there to restrict his vocal chords. He didn't know if he had been successful at hiding his tiding emotions – doubtful – but he'd been rendered speechless, unable to form a coherent reply when she teasingly threatened his life. He'd had the greatest urge to kiss her, claim her as his, and even if she'd taken out her gun and ended it for him right there, he would've died with the taste of her lips on his own, and there was nothing else he craved more.

But he hadn't found the courage, was beginning to think that he never would. More than anything, he hadn't wanted to push her to discomfort, and he knew that the actions he daydreamed would. Besides, they were at work, and if she'd been worried about professionalism before, it surely wouldn't improve matters if he crossed the line at a crime scene. It'd been too long since she'd offered him a concrete hint of what she was thinking, and he wasn't even sure where they stood anymore, so he assumed nothing. He'd frozen in place, admired from a safe distance – physically close but so far from what he wanted – and as quickly as the moment had presented itself, it had ended. Another chance lost; another snapshot he'd add to his pile of snapshots. Sometimes he wondered if he was making this all up.

It wasn't late, but he'd called her in the hopes that she wouldn't mind company. Thankfully, she didn't, and that gave him an excuse to show up at her condo with a bouquet of red tulips. The florist had explained that red tulips were a declaration of love, but he didn't believe in any of that bullshit. A flower was a flower, and Calleigh loved tulips. End of story.

"What are these for?" she asked when she greeted him at the door, eyes fixed on the flowers in his hand.

He suddenly grew nervous, wondered if maybe she knew her flowers a little better than he'd given her credit for. "You said tulips were your favorite," he replied with a confident smile, sounding a lot more collected than he actually was.

She studied him for a moment, seemingly hesitating, but finally took the flowers from him and smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

He nodded as she stepped aside to allow him to enter and closed the door behind him. He removed his shoes and turned around, and she was looking at the tulips like she'd never seen flowers before. Something flickered across her eyes for a brief moment, and she looked up at him. He grinned and pointed at the bouquet. "Maybe you should—"

"I'm gonna get these in some water," she interrupted, finishing his thought, and headed toward the kitchen before he had a chance to say anything else.

He followed her, watched as she filled a vase with water and set the flowers inside. She left the vase on the counter and turned to Eric, who had taken a glass from her cupboard and was now filling it with water from her fridge. He took a sip.

"Why are you here?" she asked, immediately wincing at her words. "I mean—"

"I know." He smiled. "Just bored, I guess." He paused and took another sip of water. "And I miss you," he offered, taking a step toward her.

She pushed herself up onto her countertop and exhaled deeply. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

He nodded and continued slowly gravitating toward her without really noticing what was happening. _Since Jake_, but he didn't verbalize that, figured she wouldn't appreciate it. He gulped down some more water, not exactly the liquid courage he needed, but for whatever reason, it was enough to encourage him to put the glass down on the counter and press his abdomen against her knees, his palms finding their way to either side of her body.

She swallowed, eyes focused on his left hand. "Eric," she warned, her voice shallow.

He could tell that she was losing control fast, and though he'd brought it upon himself, her proximity was making it difficult for him to breathe. "Calleigh," he whispered, trying to form an apology but suffering a temporary case of amnesia when her tiny hands came to rest over his and she closed her eyes, tentatively leaning forward until her forehead came into contact with his.

Before he could process what was going on, her legs were wrapped around his hips, and he found himself flush against her body, her hands cupping his cheeks. He couldn't help himself, nuzzled his face into her neck and kissed the skin there softly. Everything was moving in slow motion except their heartbeats, which pounded hard in an erratic rhythm that seemed to fit somehow.

"Eric, oh," she murmured, and if she had been protesting before, she wasn't doing it anymore. She moved her hands to the back of his neck and pulled him closer, wordlessly urging him on.

He continued lavishing attention to her neck, briefly wondering if his stubble felt rough to her. If it did, she certainly didn't seem to care. He felt her legs tighten around him, and he groaned. His hands found her butt cheeks, and he scooped her closer still. He felt her quiver slightly, and the knowledge that he could do that to her blew his mind. Her body was reacting to his in ways he had only dared dream about, but it was more amazing than any daydream he'd ever had. He almost didn't have the courage – or self-control – to stop, in case the split second allowed her to exercise restraint. He didn't want this to end, but he knew it would. He tried not to think about that and instead concentrated on kissing along her jaw line, trying to memorize every sound she made, every stroke her fingers trailed across his skin. He brushed his lips against hers lightly and nearly fainted from how perfect it felt.

Inevitably, she tensed up and pushed him away, eyes wide like she was only now realizing what she'd done. What he'd done, really, but what she'd allowed him to do. She looked down at her legs wrapped around his body and loosened them self-consciously.

"Eric…"

He shook his head and pulled her to him again. She sighed and eased into his unassuming embrace, and Eric could feel the conflicted emotions coursing through her like a hurricane, leaving a trail of uncertainty in its wake.

With strength he didn't know his shaky legs had, he picked her up off the countertop, and that elicited a surprised yelp from her. Instinctively, her legs tightened around him again as her hands clutched his biceps to prevent herself from falling backwards. They were face-to-face and he stared deep into her eyes, unsure of what he was waiting for or even what he was doing, but knowing one thing definitively: he had a new favorite look, and that was her pressed against him, cheeks flushed, breathing heavily and trying hard to appear as if she wasn't. She smiled shyly and slowly struggled out of his grip.

He released her, not knowing what to expect, how she'd react once her head cleared, and the possibility that she'd tell him to leave and forget that any of this happened was choking him. He hadn't even tasted her properly yet, hadn't had the chance to tell her how much she truly meant to him, and if he'd lost that chance because he couldn't stop himself from crossing the line, he'd never forgive himself.

"I didn't come here just to do that," he clarified quietly.

She nodded. "I know," she mumbled unconvincingly.

He frowned. "I didn't mean to—"

"I know, Eric," she repeated, a little louder. She sighed. "Don't blame yourself; I reacted, too."

That could go either way, and Eric wasn't ready to face one of them. He swallowed hard. "You know how I feel about this, Calleigh," he said, motioning at the air between them. He gave her an expectant look, but she said nothing. "Tell me what you want," he requested.

"I don't want to lose you," she replied quietly, aptly avoiding his question.

"You won't," he reassured immediately. He cupped her cheek and rolled a thumb across it. "I promise."

Her breathing quickened again as she leaned into his touch. "How do you know that?" she murmured.

He pressed a quick kiss against her hair. "I need you to trust me."

She closed her eyes and shivered, her hands making their way to his hips. "I do."

"You won't lose me if we pursue this," he reinforced. He sighed and rested his forehead against hers. "God, Calleigh, if only you knew what you do to me."

"Eric," she whispered, exhaling. "Don't say things like that."

He nodded, his heart dropping, and he retracted his hand like it stung and took a step back, breaking out of her hold. He sighed, figuring this was it. He felt it in his chest, but it hadn't hit him fully yet. He was sure it'd be hell when it did. He looked toward the direction of her door, feeling vulnerable and lost and hating that. "You want me to go?" he croaked.

She frowned, brows furrowing in confusion. "Eric," she said quietly, "I didn't say no." She sighed and bit her lip. "I just need some time to think about this. It's a lot to process."

He nodded again, not really believing her words because his defense mechanisms were in full force. He needed to get out of here. "Okay, I, uh, I should probably go anyway."

She reached out, grabbed an arm and tugged. "Stay for a while."

He looked at her, and he knew he'd never be able to say no to her. "Alright," he agreed. "A little while."

She smiled and led him to the living room, motioned for him to sit down. She turned on the television and sat down beside him, close but not too close. She made some small talk about the case, but she seemed preoccupied, like she had a lot more on her mind than she was willing to share. He did, too, so he went with it, commented on Brooks, Tanner, Susan Alston. Eventually, a silence fell over them, both watching the TV intently but neither paying much attention to the show.

Eric cast a furtive glance in Calleigh's direction and cleared his throat. "This case got me thinking," he began, knowing – especially given the events in the kitchen – that he was treading dangerous territory. "You, uh, you ever think about getting married?" He hadn't meant for it to come out so inappropriate, but it was too late to change that. He braced himself.

She tilted her head to look at him, but she didn't seem upset, only curious. After a long pause, she turned back to the TV and half-shrugged. "Not really."

He nodded, relieved that she hadn't seemed to take major offense to his personal question. Still, he figured the issue was dead, though it'd been worth a shot. He was surprised when she spoke again.

"But you," she said politely, too politely. She looked over again. "You probably want it all, huh?"

There was something indistinguishable in her tone, something fierce yet subdued. It sounded like she was holding back, wasn't saying nearly close to everything she wanted to say.

He held her gaze for a moment, then smiled and leaned back against the couch. "I'd probably get married just so my mom can fulfill her lifelong dream of organizing the ceremony for me," he laughed.

She let out a soft chuckle and nodded. "Understandable. You are her only son, after all."

This was what he loved most about their relationship, the ability to laugh and be at ease with each other, no matter what the circumstances. It seemed no amount of awkwardness would ever bring them down, and he took it as a sign that so much more was possible.

Calleigh's gaze suddenly shifted, and she appeared uncomfortable for a moment. "So the girl at the strip club seemed to have her eye on you," she commented, her voice oddly strained.

He scoffed. "Lexa?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Ryan said you were helping a girl out." She looked at him expectantly, but he didn't say anything, so she pressed on. "It was her?"

He nodded, feeling slightly guilty even though he had no reason to be. "Yeah, she was in a bit of a bind. I didn't really want to, but…"

"But?"

He frowned, unsure if he should continue. He shrugged. "She was going to owe the club twenty grand. She was desperate."

Calleigh's head snapped up. He saw fire in his eyes. "How desperate? Did she—" She cut herself off and chuckled bitterly, turned her attention back to the TV. "Never mind, that's none of my business."

"Do you honestly think I would—" He took a deep breath through his nose in an attempt to quell the sudden frustration he felt. "Calleigh, come on."

"No, you wouldn't," she replied apologetically. Her voice softened. "Of course not."

He nodded and placed a hand on her knee. "I should go," he said, moving to stand.

She nearly shot up off the couch. She smiled, a little self-consciously, and began leading him toward the door. After he'd put on his shoes, her hands snaked to the back of his head, and she pulled him down to her, lips suddenly crashing against lips, and he could taste her now, more exquisite than anything he'd ever imagined. He felt the heat, felt his brain slowly losing control of his body, and if he didn't stop then, he never would be able to. So before it went too far, he framed her face with his hands and pushed her away tenderly.

"What are you doing this weekend?" she asked breathily, hot air blowing against his face, and he forgot all the reasons why he shouldn't kiss her again.

"I think I have plans with a really hot blonde," he teased, and he was rewarded with a laugh. He held her close, couldn't believe this was really happening to him. He breathed in the scent of her hair and it was still vanilla and fruit but not. Different, somehow, and he wanted to fill everything he owned with her fragrance. "You're giving us a shot," he said incredulously, his lips curling into a huge grin.

She pulled back for a second and nodded. "It was a long time coming."


End file.
